


And I Confess, Baby, In My Dreams You're Touching My Face

by highlinson



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Angst, M/M, MCD, larry stylinson - Freeform, lourry, more or less happy ending tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-12-31
Updated: 2013-12-31
Packaged: 2018-01-06 21:33:31
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,131
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1111759
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highlinson/pseuds/highlinson
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Louis died three months ago and Harry spends this time trying to cope and stay alive. One night he dreams of Louis and makes a decision.</p>
            </blockquote>





	And I Confess, Baby, In My Dreams You're Touching My Face

**Author's Note:**

> The title is from Taylor Swift's I Almost Do, the story has no connection to the song though
> 
> I'd be very happy about comments or kudos :)

It's been three long months since Louis was gone. Harry was reminded of that every day he woke up only to find the right side of his bed abandoned and cold. He would drink every night until he can't tell what's up and down any more, until he lay down in his now too big bed, clutching Louis' diary and holding onto it for dear life. Then he would wake up close to noon with a pounding headache that makes his left temple feel as if it was on fire. When his sight was clear enough to take in his environment, it would only be blurred by tears once his mind has sobered enough to realise that he's all alone, that Louis was gone. And that he would never come back.  
Harry had no idea how long he could keep that routine, all he tried to do was to stay alive, but that was only possible when he could _forget_. But how can he forget when every space reminds him? How can he forget when it's not even possible for him to remove the dirty mug out of the sink, just because it was touched by his lover's lips months ago? He touches his own lips every day, reminds himself that it was them that were the last thing Louis' thin lips have touched, not an old mug. He's not sure if it helps or makes things worse.

The thing is, he still hasn't quite understood what the police officer had said that disastrous morning.

 

*FLASHBACK*

 

Harry had just finished his toast when he heard a knock at the door. He furrowed his eyebrows, Louis had gone about half an hour ago, did he forget something? Still frowning, he stood up with a screech of the wooden chair. As he opened the door, the first thing he felt was slight embarrassment, for he was clothed only in his black boxers and a plain t-shirt, but when the man at his front door regarded him not with disgust, but with concern and sorrow, Harry furrowed his brows even more.

Just when the young man was about to ask what the other wanted, said one asked, “Harry Styles?” Harry nodded slowly, unsure of why the man said his name in such a questioning tone for he was already in front of his flat and he should know the owner if he knew his name, shouldn't he? But one the other hand Harry had never seen this guy before, nor heard of him, so maybe he was a friend of Louis'? But then again, why would he have asked for Harry? In his head, nothing made sense right now and he had about a hundred thoughts per second, but none of them put together made sense enough as to let him grasp the situation.

“I think it would be better if you sat down...”, the man who, Harry noticed now after being forced out of his intense thinking, wore a dark blue uniform, suggested, but Harry, who began to worry more every second as to why a stranger appeared on his door step and greeted him, his voice thick with sadness and pity, shook his head briefly and said, “Just... Just tell me what's wrong. What's happened?”

The officer sighed sadly and said, “I'm very sorry to inform you that your husband got involved in an accident this morning. Our paramedics did everything they could but...”

He was interrupted by a shaking Harry who mumbled, “No” and got louder and louder until he was screaming a mantra of “no”s and “please not”s. The young man was so trapped in his shock that he didn't even notice when the police officer placed a hand lightly on his shoulder and led him to the table. When he sat down he practically swatted the hand of the friendly officer, that offered him a glass of cool water, away, because in that moment the least thing he could handle was sympathy of a man who didn't even know him, let alone Louis. By the time Jay came over, week on her knees and supported by Gemma who Harry had insisted on to call, Harry was a mess of sobs and screams, his eyes puffy and his cheeks wet, no end in sight.

 

It still didn't arrive after three months.

 

*FLASHBACK OVER*

 

Every night Harry relieved this scene that seemed too unreal and horrible to have actually happened in his life. Harry and Louis used to watch a lot of sad films in which tragedies like the loss of a partner took place and they had always ended them with tears in their eyes, just taking their time in looking at each other and silently thanking whatever god there was above that they were together right in this moment, healthy as can be.

Now, Harry had no one to kiss his tears away, to hold him until the night and tell him everything's going to be okay, because nothing will be okay any more, nothing will ever be the same without Louis' by his side, he will never be as strong as he used to be with him, for Louis completed him, he filled his life with not only love and joy, but also purpose.

After the first week Harry had thought things were getting better. The seemingly never ending calls, which he was always too polite not to answer, of people they hadn't heard from in years telling him how sorry they were subsided and he had some time to breathe. Or try to do so, really. Everyone would always tell him he needed time to think, to wrap his head around the tragedy that just took place, but the first minute he had all to himself and his thoughts he knew it wasn't good.

The thing was, he didn't think of the things his therapist, who he hadn't visited in weeks, suggested him, such as how lucky he was to have the rest of his family, his mother, sister, alive and healthy, not that he wasn't grateful for that, he really was, but when you once experienced the loss of a loved one it's hard to be thankful that it was the only one, because _one_ seemed too much already.

No, when Harry was alone, which was his normal state of being lately, accompanied by a bottle of heavy alcoholic beverage, he thought about things that might not be considered as _good for progress_ , as his therapist had liked to call it. In fact, it was only one thing. One thing he couldn't get his mind off, he couldn't stop thinking about, just one thing his mind revolved around all the time, one thing he thought about every morning just to feel like getting up for something, some _body_ , because doing things for himself only had never made much sense, and made even less now that he's actually alone. So Harry saves all the space he has left in his head for Louis, his Louis, memorizing every little thing, from how much he loved cats to how many sugar and milk he wanted in his tea, he would only use his shower gel and shampoo, he would apply Louis' aftershave on his still unmade side of the bed, afraid that if the sent of Louis would be gone, it all would seem too real. Harry kept every little detail stored in his brain, tried to recreate everything like it had been before _that_ day so that, when he was completely pissed once again, he could pretend Louis still lived there, still lived _anywhere._

Because when he did all of those things, having Louis on his mind when he went to bed clutching a bottle of whiskey, when a perfectly detailed image of him stayed behind his fluttering eyelids, when his nose was filled with Louis' heavenly sent and his fingertips prickled from the still evident touch they had received months and years ago over and over again and when Louis' name and a mumbled confession of love were the last things that escaped Harry's plump, sinful lips, then he might be lucky enough not only to sleep, but to dream.

 

_Harry woke up, his mind still in the daze, blinking heavily. As usual he stretched his muscular arms, already dreading to only touch empty space, but instead his searching hands were rewarded with something soft and warm. Confused, Harry opened his eyes fully and widened them even more when he saw Louis sitting next to him, smiling as if nothing had ever happened._

“ _Lou?”, Harry croaked, his voice even slower and deeper than usual due to not being used for several hours. Louis just smiled his crinkle-eyed smile and leaned in to kiss Harry sinfully. The younger boy gladly mirrored the action, tears brimming at his eyes, threatening to spill. “You came back!”, Harry exclaimed happily. “I'll always come back for you, love. Can't let you here alone anyway, can I? You'd trample down everything and everyone with your lanky figure”, Louis mocked, smile evident even in his voice. Harry was too relived to feel anything near annoyance, he now had hot tears of joy streaming down his face and couldn't help but take his lover's face in his big hands and kiss it over and over. “I missed you so, so much”, he whispered again and again, wanting his husband to know how miserable he had been without him._

“ _Promise me you'll never leave me again”, Harry suddenly demanded, dreading that Louis wouldn't be on his side the next time he woke up. At that, Louis smile faded briefly, almost unnoticeable but Harry, who had spent the last few years of his life studying every detail on his lover's face took very well notice of it and furrowed his eyebrows. “Please, Louis, I can't live without you.” Louis sighed and said, “I know and because of that I want to keep your promise. We will see each other again, that I can promise.” But Harry didn't want to hear that, he wanted final proof that all that had been a long, horrible dream, that Louis was alive, on his side, he longed for him to stay so badly he wondered how he had ever been able to want something else but that. “No, Louis, please, promise you'll stay”, he choked out, trying hard not to cry again, but this time out of sadness. The shorter boy just looked at him for some seconds and sighed sadly, then leaned in to give Harry a final kiss as all the colours began to fade..._

 

Shaking, Harry startled awake, his plain t-shirt drenched in sweat, pearls of it still clinging to his forehead, his hair a mess of locks. As realisation overtook him, sobs wrecked his body and tears cascaded down his soft cheeks. It had all been a dream, Louis was gone, _dead_ , and he was alone once again. In sheer desperation he made his way to the bathroom insecurely, threw one of his many drawers open and found what he longed for since so long. He didn't even spare the blazers that had allowed him a short escape from the pain of his world one glance and immediately grabbed the bottle of pills and drowned half of it in one go.

Already feeling them settling he stumbled to the bed he used to share with Louis and lay down, overthinking all the beautiful memories they had experienced together as a smile made its way on his softening features. His eyelids, arms, legs and his whole body got heavier by the second and with a final sigh he closed his green orbs that hadn't sparkled with joy any more in the last three months, and let himself go.

 

_Harry found himself on a huge, green meadow, a short figure standing a bit distant, back turned to him. As he recognised Louis in it he started to run faster than ever in his life and shouted his name. Slowly, Louis turned around and it looked so much like on their wedding Harry broke down crying. Worried, Louis ran over to him and supported his wobbly knees. Harry was repeating “You're here, you're here” over and over again and Louis just smiled and kissed him with nothing but affection, because they had all the time of the world now. When Harry had calmed down enough to say understandable and coherent things, he asked, his voice shaking with worry and sadness once again, “Will... will you stay?”_

_Although the last thing Louis wanted was to torture Harry he couldn't help but smile and kiss Harry again before he told him the answer Harry had longed for for over three months, “We both will stay here forever, together, my love.”_


End file.
